


Ecdysis

by StarAndMoon (TheDarkestStar)



Series: Something More Than Night [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Torture, Violence, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-04-27 05:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5034733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkestStar/pseuds/StarAndMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regulus Black and Barty Crouch Jr are from the two opposite worlds, which collapse only in order to destroy one another. Regulus comes from a family of Tom Riddle's avid supporters, while Barty's father is the rising star of the law enforcement, elected because of a single promise - to destroy Tom Riddle. Barty Crouch Sr, who survived the numerous assassination attempts, is a ruthless man; unlike his predecessors, he doesn’t shy away from taking a page from Riddle’s book, authorizing torture and murder as acceptable methods of fighting against the known Death Eaters, Riddle’s private army. While a figure of hope to many citizens, to his son Barty he is nothing more than an abusive and uncaring father.<br/>Regulus’s situation is not much better: his brother Sirius betrays the family to join the ranks of Crouch and the vigilante leader Albus Dumbledore, while the rest of his family, especially his aunt Bellatrix, are grooming Regulus to become a Death Eater as soon as he is of age.<br/>Despite the odds stacked so ruthlessly against them, the two meet and become best friends...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my Noir AU series (http://punkdraco.tumblr.com/tagged/hpnoir), a non-magical AU in which Tom Riddle is the leader of mafia, supported by the rich elite, the police and media agencies are corrupt, disappearances and assassinations are daily occurrences, and the city is on the verge of succumbing to chaos. A group of rogue policemen and civilian vigilantes are trying to fight against Riddle, at first without much success.  
> This fic focuses on Regulus and Barty’s relationship throughout the years, since they are 14 years old and until their ultimate demises.

_My brother once showed me_

_a piece of quartz that contained,_

_he said, some trapped water_

_older than all the seas in our world._

_He held it up to my ear. ‘Listen,’ he said,_

_‘life and no escape._ ’   

\- Anne Carson   

***

They met one starless, late summer evening. Regulus remembered it vividly. Nothing good ever happens during late summers. Everything only withers and dies; the wind becomes cruel, demanding, tearing the trees apart. Nothing good ever comes out of meetings like this.

It was an accident, really. A sporting event. His brother Sirius was enjoying himself, screaming cheers, rooting for the wrong team; Regulus, on the other hand, was bored immensely. He stole a cigarette from Sirius’s back pocket and went for a smoke.

A boy, about his age, was standing next to the bathroom stalls. He looked both rich and cool, a rare combination. Regulus thought he recognized him from school. If so, he was sure he knew what House the boy belonged to. Same as his brother, a Gryffindor; there was no mistaking it. It was like they all rehearsed that irritating pose. Regulus adjusted his suit and took off his jacket. _God forbid Mother will notice he smoked; if jacket is off, she’ll assume it was Sirius._

As soon as Regulus lit his cigarette, the boy started walking towards him.

“Hey! Can I have one?” he screamed from afar, even though all he had to do was take a few more steps.

“I’m sorry, it’s my only one,” Regulus replied. The boy sneered and began walking away.

“I can share if you want to!” he added too quickly. _That came out awkward. Why would he want to share a cigarette with a stranger? What a stupid thing to say._ Regulus felt his cheeks beginning to burn.

“Thanks,” said the boy, grabbing the cigarette from Regulus’s fingers. “I’m Barty, by the way.”

“Regulus.”

“Black?” Barty spat on the ground and gave the cigarette back to Regulus.

“How do you know?”

“Everyone knows the Blacks,” Barty shot a glance at Regulus’s hand, as if to make sure he wasn’t lying about his last name. Regulus’s family ring was too large for his middle finger, so he wore it on his thumb. Barty grabbed the cigarette from Regulus again, this time lightly caressing the ring with his fingers. A rather intimate gesture for a complete stranger. Regulus self-consciously stared at his boots. “Besides, I’ve seen your brother Sirius many times in our dorms,” Barty added as an afterthought.

_Called it,_ thought Regulus, finally looking up. “So, what’s your last name then?”

“Crouch,” Barty said hoarsely and spat on the ground again.

“Wait. Barty Crouch? The…”

“Yep.”

“Your father is also named Barty?”

“Yeah?” Barty gave him a look. _“So?”_

“Nothing.” Regulus shrugged. “Your father has some interesting ideas. I heard about his proposition to reform the Court, and —” Regulus began, but Barty interrupted him rather unceremoniously.

“There is nothing interesting about my father,” he said harshly. “Thanks for the cigarette.”

“No problem,” Regulus replied.

“See you around,” Barty nodded and went back towards the arena.

“Nice to meet you,” Regulus said quietly, not sure if he truly meant it.

 ***

They met again the next week, at the Academy. Barty said nothing when Regulus passed him by; yet, after all the obligatory first day meetings were finally over and Regulus was wandering aimlessly around the botanical gardens, Barty sneaked up on him, grabbing him by his Hogwarts green-and-silver uniform from behind. Caught by surprise, Regulus almost screamed. Barty snickered.

“Chill, it’s just me. Got a minute?” he whispered and winked. Regulus, wildly confused, resignedly followed him into the mysterious overgrown bushes around the corner.

“I decided to return the favor,” Barty said and handed Regulus a cigarette. “Come on, take it!”

“We’re not supposed to smoke here,” Regulus reluctantly took the cigarette.

“I know!” Barty’s mouth was opened in a half-laugh.

“We will get into trouble!”

“God, I hope so!”

From that day on, Barty Crouch Junior became Regulus’s best friend.

***

Barty didn’t like the idea of them meeting publicly. Regulus didn’t mind, really. Being friends with a Gryffindor alone was barely tolerated. Being friends with Crouch’s son? He might get a “lesson” from his classmates he would rather avoid being taught.

Regulus wasn’t very good at handling conflicts; he preferred to avoid them entirely. His brother Sirius, oh, he loved conflicts. He always had to have an opinion about everything. Regulus wondered sometimes, what is it like, to be so passionate about life? He saw it in his brother, and he saw it in Barty. He never saw it in a mirror. It was like there was a constant fog surrounding his soul; the feelings he got were lightened and distorted. He wondered if it’s a thing people grow out of. 

There was something different this year, though. Barty made him feel something new, something _noticeable_. There was a strange longing he felt whenever Barty was away; anger when he saw bruises on Barty’s skin; excitement whenever he saw Barty walking towards him after classes, a sly smile playing on his lips. It wasn’t a very strong, all-consuming feeling, but it was there. Regulus decided not to label it just yet.  

***

Later same year, Sirius had run away. He was still going to school, still pretended to be “the big brother,” but Regulus called his bluff. Sirius didn’t care about him; if he cared, he’d have stayed.

Barty thought Sirius had different reasons to run away.

“He pledged allegiance. They all did. Almost the entire House,” he said angrily. “All want to join my father and his war on Tom Riddle. Your family supports Tom Riddle, do they not?”

“Yes, of course we do,” frowned Regulus. Tom Riddle’s suggested reforms was all his parents could talk about. They’ve been sponsoring his organization for years now.

“Well, you should hear what _Sirius_ has to say about that.”

“I know he doesn’t agree with our parents’ views,” Regulus shook his hand. “But running away? That is humiliating for all of us. He’d better come back.”

“He won’t.”

“How do you know?”

Barty took a drag and gave Regulus his unfinished cigarette. “I wouldn’t. If I could run away… I would never go back.”

Regulus stared at him for a second.

“Then again, I can’t!” Barty gave a short laugh. “My father owns the police, does he not? If there is anything they _can_ do, it’s finding 14 year old runaways. I bet there would be a price on my head if I ran away. Every bitch would lose their pants trying to please my father. As if he cares.”

Regulus finished the cigarette.

“Barty, what is he doing to you?”

Barty squinted at Regulus, and then looked away. “Nothing. You wouldn’t understand.”

“No, tell me!” Regulus grabbed him by the shoulder, forcing him to turn around. Barty’s eyes were shining with what Regulus thought at first were tears, but then realized was simply irritation from the cigarette smoke. Regulus sighed. “Come on, you know you can tell me anything.”

Barty stared at him for a moment and then started laughing, too loudly to be genuine. His red irritated eyes gave him a scary, almost diabolical expression. “Honestly, nothing! He just talks too much, you know? And when he opens his mouth, I want to bash his skull in. That’s all. Told you, you wouldn’t understand.”

“All right,” said Regulus, not wanting to upset Barty further.

Barty was wrong; Regulus did understand. After he came back from the Christmas holidays, Regulus saw for the first time the half-healed bruises on his hands and jaw; but even before that, he noticed many times the way Barty’s shoulders twitched when touched suddenly, and how he tried to laugh it off as his “superior defensive skills.” ( _“Nobody can get to me from behind, I’m too fast for everybody! Try it sometimes! No, not in my face, try to hit me in the back, and when I’m not expecting it! You won’t be able too, I am, like, so good at this.”_ ) He believed Barty when he said he wanted to bash his father’s skull in; more than that, he believed he could do it.

Regulus wasn’t quite sure _why_ he hanged out with Barty. Maybe it was because, despite genuinely scaring him every now and then, Barty was the person Regulus trusted the most, simply because Regulus was the person Barty trusted the most. In front of others, he was a completely different person; shy, smiling, eager to defend his father’s honor. Nobody would ever have guessed just how much he hated him, and just how much he despised all the mudblood children of his father’s employees who considered him their friend.

Regulus wondered if he was the only person who truly knew Barty, and if Barty could say the same about him.

The truth was, Regulus wasn’t even sure he knew himself. Sirius’s absence broke something in him, opened a door he never knew existed. He was angry, yes, but there was also a feeling of resoluteness. Everyone had to choose a side these days; Sirius had chosen his, and Regulus was next. He won’t do the same wrong choice. 

“Hey!” concentrated on his own thoughts, Regulus forgot about Barty. “Are you still with us? I said your brother and I should switch places since he likes my father so much. That’d be something, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Regulus smiled. “I heard what you were saying, Barty. And, by the way, I do understand.”

“You do? Well, I tell you what. Let’s go get drunk today. That will help you forget your poor excuse of a brother. He is not your brother anymore. I will be your brother from now on. Deal?”

“Deal,” chuckled Regulus.

“Come on then,” said Barty and hugged Regulus with one hand, more of a choking gesture than an actual hug. “I’ll see you after classes, all right?”

Barty left first, Regulus followed. All this talk about being his brother, but he still didn’t want to be seen with Regulus in public. Though it was beginning to bother Regulus for a reason he couldn’t quite pinpoint, he understood why it had to be this way. Slytherins and Gryffindors were almost natural enemies: different families, different allegiances; in a way, Barty was protecting Regulus, not just himself. Designed to separate the students based on their skills and inclinations, in the last decades the Houses became labels people were judged on for the rest of their lives. A lot of kids nowadays skipped the personality tests which were supposed to determine their House affiliation, asking instead to be put in the House of their own choice. Regulus wondered if that was what Barty did, or was it his father?

Both Sirius and Regulus took the test. Sirius, of course, wanted to prove something to his family, to separate himself from them even in that. Mother was furious and destroyed Sirius’s new uniform days before the beginning of school. Sirius still put it on, came to class in a burnt red-and-gold jacket. He made friends instantly, of course, despite being a Black.

When it was his turn to take the test, Mother, terrified of the potential outcome, pleaded for Regulus to skip it. He told her he would, but took it anyway. He wanted to be sure that he wasn’t like his brother, that he truly belonged in Slytherin.

He did. 

***

_Entry #1._

_Anyway, as you can see, I decided to start a diary. At first I thought it was like, super lame, but then I heard that Lucius Malfoy had Tom Riddle’s old diary, so I decided to get my own. I’m going write in it in the invisible ink, though, just in case my father will go through my things again. Hi, father, if you’re reading this it means you’re smarter than I am giving you credit for, which I doubt. Sincerely go fuck yourself, your beloved son, Barty._

  _If it’s not my father reading this, then good for you for figuring out that this is not an empty notebook. You must be so proud._

_Okay, first things first. Now, I don’t know the rules, exactly, but I think I need to be addressing someone, otherwise it’s like talking to myself, right? And that would be crazy. So, at first I thought of maybe addressing Tom Riddle, but then I felt weird bothering him with all this nonsense. I bet his diary is much more interesting than mine will ever be. I hope I’ll get to read it one day._

_So, instead ofTom Riddle, I decided to dedicate it to you, my good friend Regulus. There are things I can’t tell you right now, or maybe ever, but I want you to know I wanted to. It’s just… weird. I don’t know. Talking about shit out loud. It makes me worry that someone might overhear us and then we’ll get into trouble and won’t be able to remain friends. I don’t want that to happen, do you? Is this me being a coward or just reasonable?_

_Oh, and your brother is a jerk, by the way. Sorry he ran away, but you’re better off, honestly. I wish I could run away and come to live with you instead of him. I really think about it a lot lately._

_I wanted to attach a picture of Tom here, but my father would beat me if he saw me cutting it out of his newspaper. Everyone thinks he’s such a good guy, it’s baffling. I heard his friends honestly suggesting to him to try for the Minister. The prospect of this is frankly terrifying._

_Why do they all think he’s better than Tom? All he does is torture Death Eaters and throw them in prison without a trial. And Tom is a true revolutionary, a visionary! Sometimes I wish he was my father instead, wouldn’t that be cool! I’d be, like, his right hand._

_I can’t believe we have to wait for three more years before we can join the Death Eaters! It’s so unfair. I bet they’d let YOU join earlier if you asked though. Bellatrix is your cousin, after all. I wonder if they’d even let me in, being a Crouch and all. Maybe I can be like a spy or something? That’d be so cool. I probably shouldn’t write about it here, though, even in the invisible ink. He would kill me if he knew, you know? I know he would._

_He might kill me either way one day, so whatever. Carpe diem!_

_Yours always,_

_B.C._


	2. Chapter 2

***

Sirius didn’t return for the summer, and Mother cut his face out of all family photos. Regulus threw out all three of his letters without reading them (he wrote them under a pseudonym, like that would fool anyone), and gave his pictures to Mother to burn. He saved one, but stuck it so deep under the carpet he doubted he’d ever get it out without tearing it apart. Sirius apparently got the hint and stopped writing, or maybe Mother had figured out his ridiculous nickname (“Padfoot”), and burnt the letters before Regulus could get to them. Regulus didn’t care.

Regulus waited all summer for a letter from Barty, but, with the information about the Blacks sponsoring Tom Riddle becoming public, it was clearly too risky for Barty to write to him. Regulus missed Barty terribly. He missed Sirius too, but was too angry to admit it.

He spent all summer locked in his room, listening to music in his headphones, reading books, and trying to avoid the remnants of his family.

***

_Entry #16._

_Reg, you won’t believe what my father just did! He brought that terrible man, Alastor Moody, in our house for dinner! I am to “behave” and serve it, can you believe this bullshit? Do I look like a waiter?_

_Update. So, that Moody guy, he told some wicked stories about the Death Eaters! Apparently he was trying to catch Bellatrix and she threw a knife at him! And got him, from like, 50 feet! A clear case of self-defense, if you aske me. Anyway, she’s so cool._

_Moody and my father got into an argument whether it’s reasonable or not to allow torturing the Death Eaters. Moody believes it should be outlawed, and my father says they “don’t do anything that won’t be done to them.” And Moody is like, well then, if we go on like this, soon we’ll lose the very thing that separates us from them. I don’t think he really understands what he’s fighting for, or against, or whatever. He is really weird, kept staring at me with his fake eye. Creep._

_Other than that, I did very little of anything interesting this summer. I found a pretty cool knife in the attic, but that’s about it._

_I hope your summer is better than mine. Too bad I can’t actually write you a damn letter! I miss you a lot. We should’ve just go on a trip across the country and lie that it’s a school trip or something. Do you think we could do this next summer? I really hope so._

_Yours always,_

_B. C._

_P.S. I have some news about your brother that might be of some interest to you. He has become an Auror and lives with James Potter now. I don’t know if I should tell you that when we meet in person. Maybe he told you that already, or maybe you don’t care. You would be right not to care. Family bonds are overrated. One day, we’ll create a new family for ourselves, and forget all about our past ones. We will be united not by blood, but by the strength of our convictions and our loyalty to one another. I promise you this, Reg, my brother. We will not die alone._

***

Things changed drastically in the early September. After another attempt on the life of Alastor Moody, Bartemius Crouch officially labeled the hunt for the Death Eaters a war, and authorized all available methods of capture and destruction to be used on those suspected of being active members of Riddle’s army.

Ironically, Alastor Moody was one of the few expressing criticism about the new policy. “We are fighting a war, there is no argument about that,” he said in a recent interview to a rather unofficial newspaper which was being spread among the Gryffindors. Barty found a copy of it in the garbage bin in his room. “That doesn’t mean we need to issue a carte blanche on terrorizing the citizens. It’s an extreme measure, an extremist measure, if you ask me, and making it legal won’t take away from its barbarism. If you’re a good policeman, you do your job, catch the criminal, gather the proof to send him away, you testify on the trial, you go home and then back to work. That’s what being a cop means. It’s very simple, really. The number of criminals you’re trying to catch or the position they hold in the structure of our society is irrelevant. The law says, you treat them the same, so you treat them the same. That’s justice.”

“Now you asked me how I sleep at night after so many attempts on my life, and I’ll tell you, I sleep fine knowing I’m on the right side… If they’re trying to kill me, that means I’m doing a good job, doesn’t it? Now, those who want to torture people for information they may or may not possess, they might think they’re on the right side too, but they ain’t on the same side I am and I know I can’t trust them to be good police officers, lest they’d be able to work without any of these new policies.”

“My squad, we still have the highest number of arrests, as we did before Crouch authorized to do the culling instead. Now, they say the new policy lead to the highest headcount of neutralized Death Eaters in the first month, but I don’t even know whose heads they all are counting. People who are now getting so terrified of the police they’d rather seek the protection from the likes of Tom Riddle, that’s the consequence of their new policy no one wants to talk about. This ain’t the way to fight a war, unless you’re fighting a war against your own citizens. Who are fighting the war against, Mr. Crouch? What kind of people do you have fighting it for you? Who do you think yourself to be, changing the laws like that?” 

“I asked him all that in person, and don’t think I didn’t. I did. He says smart things, he is a smart man, but he doesn’t listen. Nobody listens. The end justifies the means, they say with a smug look on their faces. What end?”

“They want me to retire, I know they want me to retire. After the bombing in my office, they were so sure I was going to retire… How can I retire when there was a bombing in my office? Someone brought a bomb all the way into my office, and you think I’d retire? I tell you, you better start building better bombs, because I’m not going anywhere until the last of them sons of bitches are rotting in prison. I still have one good eye left to see them on a one-way trip to Azkaban.”

 

“He is —” Barty made a little circle with his finger around his temple as soon as Regulus stopped reading.

“Tell me about it,” chuckled Regulus. They were sitting on the stairs of an abandoned building, a fifteen minutes walk from the school, —their new, even more secluded place of meetings. Slytherins and Gryffindors officially stopped fraternizing this year, despite the numerous attempts by the school administration to force them into taking joint classes. At school yesterday, Regulus didn’t laugh when another Slytherin threw a banana peel into Barty’s back. Today, Barty scolded him for not laughing. “Don’t draw attention to me, what do you think you’re doing?” he said. “The last thing I need right now is for my classmates to think I have a Slytherin friend.” Regulus laughed today, when it was an apple instead of a banana peel. Barty was now sporting a bruise on his neck. He rubbed it with his palm lightly.

“I know you’re being rhetorical, but I _will_ tell you about it. He came by our house this summer, right? And my father made me serve dinner. So I’m putting the food on their plates, and Moody, he isn’t touching anything. My father grabs a fork and is about to put a piece of food in his mouth when Moody slaps the fork out of his hand, just like that!” Barty demonstrated the movement. “Says, where did you get this food? Well, my father says, I bought it and my cook prepared it, why? And Moody says, it can be poisoned! Did you check for poisons? I know for a fact the Death Eaters are planning an attempt on your life! We need to check it just in case!”

Barty stared at Regulus, waiting for his reaction. Regulus nodded, “ _and?”_

“So, then he collects all the food from the table and starts putting some kind of a device into all of it. Says, it’s his own invention, which checks for all known poisons. My father just sits there, his mouth still open. It was hilarious.”

“Well, he is not wrong to suspect that someone wants to kill your father,” Regulus said with a half-smile.

“I know, right, who doesn’t! Oh, you mean me? No, I would never use poison! What if my mom eats it? Besides, then he wouldn’t know it was me. I want him to know.”

“All right,” said Regulus, desperately searching for a way to change the subject. “So, this Moody character, he lost it, then?”

“Completely,” nodded Barty. “They’re going to force him into retirement. After this interview… There is no way my father will let him have his own squad. He doesn’t tolerate this kind of… criticism.”

“So they’ll what, just fire him? It says in the article here they want to give him a commendation…”

“Exactly! They only give medals when they want to send someone to retirement. Didn’t you know that? No one wants to work with a decorated cop. Makes everyone else look bad.”

“Doesn’t your father have a commendation?” Regulus asked, instantly regretting his question.

“Yeah,” Barty frowned. “But it’s different. He is a bureaucrat. They get commendations every other week.”

Regulus tried hard to think of a new topic that would not lead to another discussion of Barty’s father. After a minute of uncomfortable silence, Barty jumped on his feet.

“Let’s get out of here!” he said resolutely.

“And go where?”

“Right,” frowned Barty, sitting back on the stairs. “Can’t take you anywhere, now can I,” he added with a half-smile.

Regulus bit his lip.

***

Since Sirius’s disappearance, the rest of the Black family all decided to keep a closer eye on Regulus. For the most part, it meant parties. Lots of parties. Parties with distant relatives, their spouses, some of which were, as Sirius used to joke, also distant relatives, and their children of various ages. Every single one of them wanted to know about Regulus’s plans for the future. Regulus was to say something vague and polite, and smile.

He smiled so much during the last month he was worried he had permanently damaged his jaw.

 

Sisters Bellatrix and Narcissa frequented the parties, Narcissa often bringing her fiance, Lucius Malfoy. Their third sister, Andromeda, who made a mistake of marrying a mudblood, was now pronounced dead and thus absent. Regulus wondered if she knew where his brother was. He wondered if he should be like Narcissa and pretend he never had a brother in the first place.

One time Bellatrix asked Regulus, “Do you remember my other sister?” 

A trick question. She was Sirius’s favorite. 

“What other sister?” Regulus said.

Bellatrix laughed.

 

“So, what _are_ your plans?” Bellatrix asked him at another party a couple of weeks later. She was holding a glass in her hand, stained with red lipstick. It must’ve been her fifth; Regulus entertained himself by counting the drinks his relatives had before approaching him with this question. Not that they needed any liquid courage to do that. For the most part, Regulus figured, it meant they were getting bored enough to start fulfilling their duties. Soon after asking him this question, they’d leave the party. Regulus wished he could begin the party simply by announcing his plans and spare everyone the embarrassment. Then maybe he’d be allowed to leave as well.

Of course, he couldn’t do that. That was his house; he had nowhere to go.

“Well, you know. Finish the school. Manage not to fail math, though that’s mostly a dream right now, not a plan,” Regulus replied with a light smile.

Bellatrix didn’t return the smile. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“I see. And what are you plans after you finish the school? Assuming you don’t fail math?”

Regulus knew exactly where this was going.

“Join the Death Eaters, of course,” he said bluntly. Bellatrix didn’t like it when people avoided answering her questions; she’d grow impatient and suspicious. He didn’t need any more people to be suspicious of him.

Bellatrix laughed again. “Why wait?”

“Aren’t I too young?”

“You’ll take the Mark at seventeen, but that doesn’t mean you can’t start participating in Tom’s campaign right away. You’re in school! We need people like you at school, people loyal to us, people we trust. Those who can tell us whom we can or cannot trust when they come to us. You understand what I’m saying?”

“I think so.”

“You hear things. You know what people’s opinions are. You’re quiet, unnoticeable… Like a little mouse.”

“Thanks…?”

Bellatrix laughed again. “Oh, don’t get sore! That’s a good thing. People talk. Common rooms, cafeterias, whispers during classes… People always talk, and you listen. I know you do. I watched you. So quiet, so polite, always listening to others, never talking first. And your face, so expressionless… Amazing. What are you thinking about?” She squinted as if trying to read his thoughts right from his forehead.

“Right now? Just wish I was old enough to drink whatever it is you’re drinking.”

“Here, have some,” she handed him her glass.

“Thanks,” Regulus took one sip. “Yum.”

“Don’t bullshit me, I know you’ve had alcohol before.”

“Not at this kind of party,” Regulus took another sip. Bellatrix took the glass away.

“Exactly what I was talking about. So, can I trust you to do this for me?”

“Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you. For this opportunity, I mean.”

 “That’s good that you recognize the importance of your task. One more thing… Don’t tell your father I asked you to do this, deal?”

Regulus shrugged. “I wasn’t planning to.”

Bellatrix smirked in response and finished her drink in one gulp. She soon left the party without saying goodbye.

Regulus didn’t like Bellatrix very much.

***

When Barty heard about his conversation with Bellatrix, he got so excited he smacked Regulus hard on the shoulder, leaving it sore.

“Well done, man!” he said.

“I didn’t do anything,” Regulus replied.

“No, but you will! This is what you were _born to do_ ,” Barty laughed.

Regulus wanted to slap him back, but remembered that Barty didn’t like to be touched unexpectedly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of thanks to tobermoriansass for being an amazing beta and writing buddy!!

***

Regulus made lists. People he heard praising Riddle, criticizing Riddle, praising Dumbledore, praising Bartemius Crouch, praising Moody, wishing the war would not happen. People who date mudbloods, befriend mudbloods, defend mudbloods, attack mudbloods, are mudbloods. People who said different things in different companies, weak people, people with no core, no ambition, no beliefs. People easily twisted and molded into whatever one wanted to do with them. People who brought weapons to school and people who refused to ever touch them. People’s grades, interests, talents, abilities. So many lists.

He hadn’t given a single one to Bellatrix. Sometimes he thought, what would happen to all these people who tried to become Death Eaters when their names were on one of Regulus’s unfavorable lists? What would happen to him if he missed someone, gave them a recommendation, and then they turned out to be a spy? What would happen if someone were to find out about this extracurricular activity of his? Would he be expelled? Punished? Beaten?

Still, a promise is a promise. Regulus made lists.

He put Barty’s name in some of them. He didn’t want to underline it in any way, mixing it together with other Gryffindors. He avoided mentioning his connection with Barty. For now, he decided this Barty was not to be exposed. Even if Barty himself wanted him to. No, this Barty was his. His.

He wrote his brother’s name over and over again. All of his friends, too: Pettigrew, Potter, halfbreed Lupin. Something was going on between Sirius and Lupin. Or was it him and Potter? All four of them were so close, Regulus could never understand it. Until Barty, that is. Then, he understood.

Pettigrew seemed to be the weakest link. He was the quiet one, the least attractive one, just following Sirius and Potter around, mirroring their actions. There was something about Lupin, too, something Regulus couldn’t pinpoint: strange disappearances, scars, ability to get away without a detention even when he did the same things as the other three. He was the teacher’s pet, that was clear, but so was Barty. Regulus wondered if there was a side to Lupin the teachers didn’t know about. He wrote it all down.

Then he set the paper on fire, because it was not what was asked of him. Showing overeagerness meant leaving himself open to exploitation. He didn’t need to prove anything to Riddle. He was a Black.

He wrote a new list: people he was sure about, people he didn’t care for, and gave it to Bellatrix during their next house party. She seemed pleased.

Barty wasn’t.

“Why didn’t you put my name on that list of yours? Am I not trustworthy, you think?”

He was really mad.

“No, of course you are!” Regulus didn’t know what else to say. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m saving you,” he said too fast, and paused, ashamed. “For, um… Later.” He continued more confidently, having figured out what to say. “I think… I think you just need a better introduction than that, you know? You’re more important than just a name on some stupid list.”

“What?”

“I, um… I want to introduce you to Bellatrix personally. Then you can say whatever you want to say to her yourself. Then we both get extra points, you understand?”

Barty understood. He _beamed_ with understanding.

“When?”

“I don’t know yet. We’ll see.”

“If you’re bullshitting me right now, I swear to god, Regulus, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’m not!”

Barty hugged him tightly over his neck, like he always did, and then kissed his forehead. Regulus shrugged with his whole body.

“I will never forget about this, Regulus. I promise you, one day, I’ll find a way to return the favor.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Fuck, I can’t believe it,” Barty hugged him again. “Meeting Bellatrix. Fuck. I love you, Reg.”

“I love you, too,” Regulus said, and meant it.

***

“Whatcha writing there?” Sirius approached Regulus one day during lunch. He was wearing his tie like a scarf and his hair looked like it hadn’t been combed in two years. There were pieces of lunch stuck in it, in fact. Regulus looked at him with disdain.

“None of your business.”

“Oh, come on, Reg,” Sirius put a chair next to him and sat down, uninvited, at the Slytherin table. Regulus blushed with fury.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m just trying to talk to you, man. You’re my brother. Or have you forgotten?”

“I meant,” Regulus said slowly, “what are you doing here. At this table.”

“Well, I can’t catch you anywhere else, you’re always at your dorm and you know I can’t go there. Have you been avoiding me?”

Regulus scoffed.

“Look, I just want to talk to you,” Sirius repeated earnestly. “I don’t know if you got any of my letters —”

“Mother burnt them.”

“I figured. How have you been?”

“Fine. Now if you don’t mind, I want to continue my lunch. In peace.”

“I come with nothing but peace, bro.”

“I meant alone.”

“Reg…”

“Go sit at your table, before someone drags you there by that disgusting hair of yours.”

“Nice,” Sirius grinned and didn’t move.

Regulus stared at his omelet. Sirius took a deep breath. His voice was soft and quiet when he spoke.

“Reg, if you just let me explain. I had to move, Mother, they all —”

“I don’t care, Sirius. You had to do what you had to do, and I’m going to do what I have to do now. So, if you excuse me, I think your friends need you. And I don’t. So. If you could just leave me alone forever, that would be great.”

“Fine.” Sirius stood up. “Fine. I will.” He turned around and left abruptly, without looking back.

Regulus didn’t know it then, but Sirius kept his promise. Those were the last words he would ever say to his brother.

***

During the spring break Barty was, as they say, over the moon. Regulus personally didn’t like astronomical idioms. You wouldn’t also, if you were named after a star system. He didn’t like astronomy either.

They went to the movies and saw three films in a row, Regulus’s choice, — with Barty, in a childish way, attempting to please him so he would let him meet Bellatrix, and Regulus enjoying it while it lasted. The movies Regulus chose were all romantic comedies. Most movies were romantic comedies, so there wasn’t really much to choose from, but there were some horror flicks and action movies available. Barty was quite openly eyeballing the posters, trying to hint to Regulus that a romantic comedy was the last thing he wanted to see. Regulus didn’t really care about romance or comedy, if he was being completely honest, but he had a certain twisted desire to see just how far he could push Barty before it blew up in his face.

Barty obediently watched all three films. He even laughed sometimes, though not always in the right places. He also stole someone’s wallet, and took Regulus to a restaurant nearby, where they spent all the cash found inside. They threw the remains of the wallet, — credit cards and passport-sized pictures of two little children, — in the trash.

They didn’t really talk about Barty’s father or Riddle or Regulus’s family; Regulus carefully avoided each of those topics. They ended up discussing the school quite a bit. Barty was in the middle of a funny story that happened in one of his classes when it dawned on Regulus that he might have to write it down later, to use in one of his reports. That slightly ruined his mood, if only for a moment. Still, Barty noticed.

“Hey! No sad faces during the spring break, that’s our rule!”

Regulus smiled. “Oh, we have rules now?”

“Of course we do! What are we, anarchists?”

“How dare you!” Regulus laughed. “So, what happened next?”

“Okay, so, this kid, he stands up, all covered in foam, dripping it on the floor, his desk on fire, and says, I think I just proved your fancy chemistry law _wrong_ , professor.”

“And professor Slughorn?”

“Yeah, he was just like, Mr. Cresswell, good lord, please stop touching your desk, your hand is on fire!” Barty imitated Slughorn’s voice quite masterfully.

Regulus couldn’t stop laughing.

“And then what happened?”

“Nothing much. Dirk took off his shirt, wrung it out to put the fire down. Slughorn then spent fifteen minutes proving to him that the law was correct, but I don’t think either of them convinced one other. Slughorn gave him an A for the lab. I got a B, and I didn’t set anybody on fire. He has it in for me, I think. What about you? Does he like you?”

“Oh yeah, Horace loves me.”

“Horace, is it?” Barty winked and laughed again. Regulus turned red.

“Well, we call each other by our first names at the Slug Club. Too many people with the same last names, I gather.”

Barty snickered.

“Slug Club. Yeah, he tried to talk to me about that. Should I join, you think?”

“I think it’s a solid enough way to secure an A,” Regulus replied with a light smile. “Riddle was a member, you know,” he added quietly.

“REALLY? Well, you and Tom, that’s a company I would like to keep. I’ll join right after the break then.”

“Bring him some sweets. He can easily be bribed with food.”

“What is he, a dog?” Barty sneered.

“Oh, come on, he’s the head of the Slytherin House.”

“He’s not a Death Eater, though.”

“No,” Regulus shook his head. “But Riddle likes him. And he taught most of my family. He is well-respected, too. I think it’s just a matter of time before he publicly announces his affiliation. Maybe after Dumbledore resigns.”

“Trust me, Dumbledore will never resign. He will die in his office before he resigns. And even then, you’d probably have to fight his lifeless ghost for that chair-throne of his.”

“Well, I don’t know. I heard some names being thrown around. Karkaroff…”

“A foreigner? _Never_ ,” scoffed Barty.

“Avery… Rosier… Maybe even Riddle himself.”

“Avery and Rosier never even worked as teachers. Riddle… He has better things to do then manage a bunch of eleven year olds. Come on.”

Regulus shrugged. “Well, I’m just telling you what I heard. Personally, I don’t care either way. The school is almost over. One more year.”

“One more year!” Barty said it like a toast. “Be it the best year yet!”

They finished their bottle of wine and, too drunk to go home, went back to the movies to see a late night documentary about the Grindelwald war. Barty fell asleep during the opening titles.

Regulus, on the other hand, watched it until the end. It was a bad, biased, factually incorrect documentary, and Dumbledore himself had refused to give an interview for it. So did Grindelwald, possibly, though it wasn’t clear if they had asked him. Still, it kept Regulus up all night. He didn’t understand why.

He wondered if there’d ever be a documentary made about him. He wondered if that was something he’d want.

There would be many made about Barty, of that he was certain.

***

_Entry #31._

_I think there is something wrong with mom._

_Yesterday, I found her on the kitchen floor, passed out. She said it was dehydration._

_Who gets dehydrated in a kitchen? At home?_

_They are lying to me, I know they are, and they won’t tell me anything._

_I think she’s sick, like, really sick. I think one day I might come home and she will be on the floor and she won’t wake up anymore._

_Why does she get sick when my Father will probably live till a hundred? He’s one who should’ve gotten sick. He deserves it._

_Is it the lack of a soul that makes a body so strong? Is it an abundance of softness that makes her sick?_

_Weak. Can’t afford to be weak. Can’t afford to be seen with a weak wife, so he’s covering it up, even from me._

_He doesn’t trust me, I know he doesn’t. He thinks I’m weak too, he thinks he can bend me to his will, but he won’t. Never!_

_Reg, I do hope you weren’t lying about your promises. I can’t handle any more people lying to me right now._

_Lies, lies, everywhere only lies. My whole life is a lie._

_You know, they say Death Eaters wear masks because they are ashamed to show who they are, but aren’t they all wearing masks just as well? Their faces, smiling, pretending, hiding what they really are… Only putting on a literal mask, then, you can become truly free from the lies. To become yourself is to become faceless, and to become boundless is to become bondless. Complete anonymity. You are what you are, at your core, not what they make you be. You’re completely bare. You even shed your skin. Like in death, only blood and bones remain._

_This is what we will become, Reg, behind the masks. Blood and bones._

_Yours always, B.C._


End file.
